CAIN

A monologue from the play by Lord Byron

ADAH: 'Twere better that he never had been born?Oh, do not say so! Where were then the joys,The mother's joys of watching, nourishing,And loving him? Soft! he awakes. Sweet Enoch!Oh, Cain! look on him; see how full of life,Of strength, of bloom, of beauty, and of joy—How like to me—how like to thee, when gentle—For then we are all alike; is't not so, Cain?Mother, and sire, and son, our features areReflected in each other; as they areIn the clear water, when they are gentle, andWhen thou art gentle. Love us, then, my Cain!And love thyself for our sakes, for we love thee.Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms,And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine,To hail his father; while his little formFlutters as winged with joy. Talk not of pain!The childless cherubs well might envy theeThe pleasures of a parent! Bless him, Cain!As yet he hath no words to thank thee, butHis heart will, and thine own too.